


Requiem for a Race

by Polly_P



Category: Tsukihime
Genre: Action, Drama, Gen, Tragedy, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-31 02:11:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1026054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polly_P/pseuds/Polly_P
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 1203 and the world of vampires is at an historic turning point; Arcueid Brunestud, the White Princess, got tricked into drinking blood by Michael Roa Valdamjong, which caused her to go berserk and slaughter most of the True Ancestors in her rage.<br/>With the majority of the True Ancestors dead and their princess back to her deep slumber, the leading forces of the Dead Apostles see an opportunity to finish the job that Arcueid had started, and to settle the score with their old enemies, the True Ancestors. As the most powerful Dead Apostle Ancestors start to gather their forces, a hunt of the remaining True Ancestors begins...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Requiem for a Race

 

**ACT I _  
_**

_June, 1203_  
 _Transylvania_  
  
  
The crescent moon was hanging high in the skies, shedding a few faint rays of cold light on the land below. The plain was shrouded in darkness, and the weak moonlight wouldn't be enough to illuminate the path for any odd late travelers; the owls and wildcats were the only creatures capable of finding their way in the pitch-black night.  
  
And yet, fifteen riders were making their way across the plain at full speed, never deviating from the trodden country road between the golden fields of rye to the both sides of it, nor breaking their formation even whilst in full gallop.   
  
Twelve of the men appeared to be knights, although their armour was vastly different than that of an average European warrior of that time; they wore brilliant silver breastplates, and matching silver spaulders and greaves. Their helmets were silver, too, and long white crests fell straight down their necks and backs from their helmets. All pieces of their armour were decorated with ornamental patterns to a degree, and their long, crimson capes were fluttering in the wind behind them. Each man also had a sword and a dagger fastened to their belt, but they carried no shields.  
  
In front of the twelve soldiers were three figures in black; two of them were wearing hooded cloaks and their faces were hidden in complete darkness, but the third man, who was riding at the very front of the column on a large black steed, did not conceal his face with a hood nor helmet.  
  
The man appeared to be middle-aged, and his body was of strong build. His hair was thin and had already started to retract from his forehead, but it was still of the bright golden colour like it had been in his younger days. Short and well-trimmed beard and mustache covered the lower half of his face. A few wrinkles had already formed on his forehead and around his eyes, but they did not mar his face; instead, they gave him a sort of dignified look associated with men of great experience and wisdom.  
  
His cloak, fastened over his right shoulder with a large, silver buckle, his black clothes, and boots were all of the finest material. Fastened to his belt was a small, functional dagger. All in all, his appearance and posture were those of a wise and very refined, but otherwise completely normal baron or a lord, except for one thing; the man's eyes were crimson red.  
  
Still forcing their horses to gallop, the group soon reached the edge of the field, where the plain turned into forested, rolling hills, and the road started meandering through the gentle valleys between them. The road ran parallel to a small stream for a while, before starting to climb up the hillside as the hills gradually transitioned into tall and steep mountains.   
  
The company made a quick stop by the creek for the horses to drink and catch a breath, and then they continued at full speed up the narrow and winding mountain path. The deciduous forest of the lowlands was soon replaced by looming, black spruce trees. The woods seemed to be completely devoid of life; all the animals of the forest seemed to have retreated to the safety of their lairs before the galloping company of men, sensing that there was something very wrong and dangerous about these creatures.   
Thus the men continued their journey without any interruptions, and within a few hours they started descending down the steep slopes of the mountain. Even though by that time their horses were completely exhausted, they hurried onwards, and soon reached the foot of the hill.   
  
  
The long, woody mountain valley opened into a wide open field here, and across the plain the men finally saw their destination - a large black castle, located on a solitary rock rising from the surrounding flatlands. The rock dominated the countryside completely, and one's attention was instantly drawn to it. It was well over four hundred feet high, and its slopes were steep and bare; only a few bushes and short trees grew among the rocks.   
There was a water spring inside the hill, and it opened into a waterfall on the southern side of the hill at the height of about two hundred feet, forming a small lake at the base of the rock.  
  
The slopes of the hill were somewhat gentler on the eastern side and they transitioned into a second, smaller hill, which was about the third of the height of the main rock, and mostly covered in grass and bushes. The two hills were separated by a deep ravine.  
Over this ravine went a single, narrow, stone bridge, rising from the chasm on seven stone pillars. The eastern end of the bridge was guarded by two stone griffins, and to the west the bridge ended before the castle's main gates. The gatehouse, a simple and bulky building extending from the steep rocks behind and above it, was guarded by two tall towers with coned roofs.  
  
About one hundred feet above the gatehouse, three quarters of the way up to the top of the hill, lay the first part of the castle. It consisted of several towers and buildings centred around a small courtyard; stables, workshops and some storage buildings were located in this section of the castle. A long, spiral tunnel led from the castle gates to the yard, and it was large enough for two men on horses to ride through it side by side.  
At the top of the hill was the main part of the castle – a huge black citadel surrounded by several bulky, square towers, dotted by many balconies, and narrow and tall windows. The black castle seemed more like an extension of the hill than an artificial human construction, and it loomed threateningly above the wide plain, its lit windows flickering in the dark night like glowing eyes of a nocturnal predator.  
  
  
The riders were unfazed by the imposing castle, though, and made their way across the plain as quickly as possible. As the company started to climb up the winding path that led to the top of the smaller hill and the castle bridge, their leader noticed that the eastern skies were starting to get brighter; the dawn was approaching fast, and while to the west the sky was still pitch-black, on the east the Sun was quickly dispelling the darkness. The Moon would soon be forced to hand over its dominance of the heavens to its sister, but fortunately for the travelers, their journey had come to an end before the end of the night.  
  
The horses slowed down their pace as the company made their way across the narrow bridge and towards the castle gates. Several men had already been waiting in front of the gatehouse to receive the travelers. The leader of the riders stopped his horse at the end of the bridge and was immediately approached by one of the people waiting; a tall and young man dressed in elegant black and grey robes, with raven hair falling down his shoulders. His eyes were of the same crimson colour as those of the riders.  
  
“Welcome, my Lord Ortenrosse.” he greeted the blonde nobleman.  
  
The man responded with a quiet and dignified nod, to which the black-haired man gave an order to clear the way.  
  
“Please, this way, my lord.” he said and invited the man, Ortenrosse, and his retinue to follow him.  
  
They entered the castle, with the gates closing behind them as soon as the last of the men had went past them, and proceeded to slowly climb up the dark tunnel. No one spoke, and the eerie silence was only broken by the loud metallic noise of the horseshoes clanging against the cold and moist cobblestones. To an outside observer the atmosphere would seem tense and frightening, not at all helped by the darkness of the tunnel, which was illuminated only by a handful of torches.   
And yet, none of the people, riders and their hosts alike, seemed bothered or uneasy about the eerie mood – the silence and the darkness, which would unnerve most normal people, seemed completely natural to them.  
  
The procession reached the upper yard within a few minutes, and the riders quickly dismounted. Several servants appeared from the nearby building to take the horses and lead them to the stables.  
  
“Make sure that they are well-fed.” Lord Ortenrosse instructed the servants, tapping his black horse on the neck, “And they are in need of a good rest.”  
  
“As you command, my lord.” the servants replied with a bow and took the horses away.  
  
“Come with me, my lord.” the young man who had received him said, gesturing towards a second gate, which led back to the inside of the hill.   
  
Ortenrosse and his retinue followed the man as he navigated through several corridors and chambers leading through the rock. Since there were no windows, the hallways were also illuminated only by torches like the tunnel leading from the main gates, and the stone glowed with a strange greenish colour under the weak and flickering light of the torches.   
They passed a number of doors and side-halls, climbed several staircases, and some of Ortenrosse’s men had already started to wonder if they had lost their way in this underground maze when the man leading them finally stopped in front of the doors at the end of a large lobby. The doors were made of iron, and intricate patterns and ornaments covered their entire surface.   
  
“The Princess is awaiting you, my lord.” the servant said and, moving to the side to let the lord and his men enter, opened the doors wide open.   
  
  
Ortenrosse slowly made his way down the few steps leading from the entrance to the floor of the great hall. He suddenly felt dozens of eyes fixed on him as he walked across the chamber and towards the black throne on the other end of the hall. Between the stone pillars on each side of the room stood numerous vampires, male and female alike, all dressed in fashionable black gowns and tunics, their necks and hands adorned with fine silver jewelry. Some wore their hair loose, others in buns, and they all looked refined and dignified. Their white skin looked even paler than usual in the cold light of the countless candles and torches scattered throughout the hall, on the pillars and along the walls, and their crimson eyes were flickering in the light of the candles like fireflies.   
  
Still, no matter how much they stared at him, Ortenrosse paid these vampires no heed, walking steadily towards the other end of the hall without turning his eyes left or right even a milimetre. He kept his head straight as he crossed the room, and the noble bearing of the other vampires paled in comparison to his own. His men followed him, keeping a few paces worth of distance between them and their lord, and they attracted a fair bit of attention from the hosts, too.  
  
At the end of the hall opposite the entrance a dozen vampires were sitting in a broken semicircle on simple wooden chairs, six on each side of the hall. These vampires were wearing much more lavish dresses, and their rings and necklaces were adorned with precious stones.   
  
Behind the gap between the seats of this aristocratic elite of the coven stood a large throne made of charcoal black marble. The throne was placed on a small podium, and the back of the throne was connected to the wall behind it. A few paces to the left and right of the throne stood two tall statues of angels, each of them wearing a blindfold and holding a cup in front of them with both hands. Further to the left and right of each statue were small doors leading to the back hallway.  
  
Between the edge of the podium and the nearest seat of a vampire noble on Ortenrosse’s right-hand-side stood a man dressed in gray and white; a contrast to the rest of the court. He appeared to be young, maybe in his mid-twenties, he was clean-shaven and his blonde hair had been combed neatly to the back of his head. A silver sword and a small dagger were fastened to his belt.  
  
On Ortenrosse’s left, in the shadow of the angel statue behind the throne, stood another figure, completely clad in black and leaning against the wall. Judging solely by his face, he looked a bit older than the blonde man in white, and while he, too, was clean-shaven, his dark-brown wavy hair was messily falling on his shoulders. Resting his left hand on the pommel of his sword, he stared intently at Ortenrosse and his men.  
  
However, the two fearsome guardians of the throne seemed insignificant to the third one - Ortenrosse's knights all slowly lifted hands to their sword hilts, feeling the pressure of a murderous gaze, and noticed the immense white beast lying by the fire. The chilling blue eyes of the creature- it could not rightfully be called a dog- caused a thrill of fear to run through the knights.  
  
  
And yet, Ortenrosse didn’t pay the slightest bit of attention neither to the the aristocratic elite of this castle, nor to the two intimidating knights guarding the throne, nor to the monstrous hound which stared at him with murderous intent. While his retinue felt uneasy in the presence of Gaia’s beast, he effortlessly retained his composure and dignified bearing. Out of the entire vampire court that had gathered in this chamber, the only one who interested him was the person sitting on the black throne.  
  
On the cold marble throne sat a young girl of fourteen, maybe fifteen years of age ( although she was quite tall for her age ). She wore her beautiful, long golden hair loose, letting it fall down her back and shoulders. Unlike the vampire ladies sitting in front of her, the girl didn't need to adorn her hair with any diadems or other jewelry.   
Likewise, she wore a simple but elegant, long flowing gown of black silk. Her feet were bare and she wasn’t wearing any sort of jewelry save for a simple golden pendant around her neck. While the rest of her retinue looked solemn and cold, the young girl was strikingly relaxed, doing her best to suppress a mischievous grin or a chuckle due to the formality of the occasion.  
  
Ortenrosse and the girl stared into each other’s eyes for a few short seconds, and then the vampire lord spoke:  
  
“Greetings, my lady Brunestud,” he greeted her with a small bow.  
  
“Welcome, my Lord Ortenrosse,” she replied with a grin.  
  
“I hope you are doing well, my lady,” the vampire said politely.  
  
“Oh, yes, I am. Well, I’m _usually_ fine, but not so much right now – I don’t feel quite well whenever I have to engage in politics. Such tedious business, don’t you agree? And I’m not very good at it anyway,” Altrouge Brunestud replied teasingly.  
  
“You speak too lowly of yourself, my lady,” Ortenrosse said, bowing a little again.  
  
“If you say so, Ortenrosse. Well, it’s mostly because of the _people_ with whom I have to deal: some of them are such unpleasant characters, I simply can’t stand them,” Altrouge responded impishly.   
“The one I have to deal with today is a particularly nasty man,” she continued, turning her eyes towards the ceiling and speaking with a straight face. “He’s always bothering me with some tiresome and uninteresting business.”  
  
Once she had finished her sentence, she looked at the vampire lord briefly from the corner of her eye and shot him a ghost of a playful smile that only Ortenrosse managed to see.  
  
“Hopefully he will not take much of your time tonight,” he replied courteously.  
  
“I hope so, too,” she said, turning back towards him and then spoke in a cold and serious voice: “What is it that you want, Ortenrosse?”  
  
Clearing his throat, the vampire elder said:  
”I take it that you have already heard the news pertaining to Arcueid Brunestud?”  
  
“Of course I have, Ortenrosse; by now the whole world has heard of my little sister’s blunder,” she replied in a somewhat condescending tone.  
  
Indeed, the news of the demise of the True Ancestors at the hands of the one they believed to be the perfect being and their strongest weapon had reached Altrouge’s ears about two months ago, not a week after the event took place. Needless to say, she was surprised by the news, and when Ortenrosse asked for an audience at her court not long after that, she had a fairly good idea what the purpose of his visit would be.  
  
“What of it?” Altrouge asked.  
  
“You probably also know that there are several True Ancestors who have escaped the mayhem of the White Princess.”   
  
“Yes, yes, I know. What is it that you want from me?” she asked impatiently.  
  
Unfazed by her tone, Ortenrosse continued in his business-like tone:  
”I’ve come here with a proposition for you.”  
  
”What kind of proposition?”  
  
”To hunt down the remaining True Ancestors.”  
  
A deafening silence ensued from Ortenrosse’s proposal as everyone present was taken aback.  
  
‘Straight to business as always, Ortenrosse.’ Altrouge mused to herself as the silence slowly turned into a murmur once the vampires recovered from the shock and started discussing the news in pairs and small groups. Only Altrouge and Ortenrosse with his retinue remained silent.   
The two kept staring at each other for a while, and the murmur of the vampires slowly became louder and louder, until Altrouge finally raised her hand and commanded:  
  
”Silence!”  
  
Within a second the hall became completely silent again, and the vampire princess spoke:  
  
”Hunt down the remaining True Ancestors? And why should we do that?”  
  
“They are our enemies; is it not only natural for us to want to destroy them?”  
  
”Come on, Ortenrosse, they are hardly a threat anymore. They no longer pose any danger to us, so why should we bother with them?”  
  
“They didn’t pose a threat to us before the birth of the White Princess, either, and then the situation changed quite drastically; it would be wise to prevent something like that from happening again, don’t you agree?”  
  
Altrouge said nothing, her silence a confirmation of Ortenrosse’s words. Satisfied with her reaction, he continued:  
  
”The True Ancestors have indeed lost most of their power, but until they’ve been eradicated they remain a threat to us, and I would rather not take any chances.”  
  
”But hunting them down won’t be an easy task. And besides, the True Ancestors are not our only enemies.”  
  
”True, but I wouldn’t worry about that; the Church and the Clock Tower are at each other’s throats right now. At this rate, they might destroy each other even without our help. And the True Ancestors are still scattered and disorganized. This is our chance to eliminate them once and for all. The time to strike is now, for we’ll probably never get an opportunity like this one again.”  
  
Altrouge pondered the issue for a while before replying:  
  
”Fine, then, let’s hear your proposal. But that doesn’t mean I’m saying ‘yes’.”  
  
”Of course,” Ortenrosse said, the left corner of his lips twitching into a small smirk for a split second.   
  
”The Millennium Castle lies in ruins and there are currently no True Ancestors there, or at least no _active_ ones; my scouts report that, although the castle is ruined and lifeless, a good portion of its protective barriers remain in place. This probably means that the White Princess is still in the castle, and she’s still able to maintain its defences. However, there have been no signs of her activity over the last two months – while it’s still too early to conclude anything with certainty, it is likely that she has returned to her sleep as usual, and that she won’t take any action against us.”  
  
Ortenrosse made a short pause, and since Altrouge said nothing he quickly continued:  
  
”There were well over a hundred True Ancestors at the Millennium Castle before that, but most of them have been killed by the White Princess. In particular, almost all of the strongest vampires there have died when they tried to restrain her, which means that the surviving True Ancestors will be easier to hunt down. From the intelligence that I’ve managed to gather, it seems that there’s only about two dozen True Ancestors remaining, and most of them escaped the slaughter because they weren’t at their castle at the time.”  
  
Altrouge listened intently, and when Ortenrosse made a pause again she said:  
  
”You’ve just said that the strongest True Ancestors have already been killed by my sister, so I have to ask again: why should we bother with the surviving ones? They are of no concern to us.”  
  
“True, but what if the survivors return to the Millennium Castle and tame the White Princess once more? Or create another one like her, though, I admit, that is not likely.”  
  
  
Ortenrosse’s arguments failed to persuade Altrouge, and she was still thinking what to do with a troubled expression on her face. Sighing a little, the vampire lord decided to change tactics:  
  
”How about this: you can think of it as a game.”  
  
“A game?” the black princess asked, her eyes suddenly gleaming with curiosity.  
  
“Yes, a game. The one to kill the most True Ancestors within a year wins. How does that sound?”  
  
“Hmm... now _that_ sounds like a much better reason than your usual petty politics and power-playing, Ortenrosse,” Altrouge said with a mischievous grin.  
  
“Does that mean that you agree to take part in it?”  
  
”What kind of question is that?” she replied with a childish smirk. “I mean; how could I miss a chance to humiliate you in your own game, my lord?”  
  
“Or perhaps _I_ will be the one to beat _you_ , my lady. Again.” Ortenrosse said in a calm voice and with a straight face.  
  
“Oh?” the vampire princess exclaimed, chuckling, and then turned to her guardian knight in white:   
“Did you hear that, Svelten? Lord Ortenrosse thinks he can win this game against us. Not to mention that he’s also teasing me. How rude of him! Will you simply stand here and allow him to insult me like that?”  
  
“Certainly not, my princess,” the man, White Knight Svelten, replied. “Do you want me to punish him for his insolence?” he asked, and he seemed to be serious about it.  
  
Having ignored his very presence since the time he entered the hall, Ortenrosse at last turned his attention to Altrouge's bodyguard.   
Unlike his collegue standing in the back, who wore simple clothes, Svelten was dressed very fashionably: an elegant grey tunic, a white jacket, tall brown boots and leather gloves; all of them of the finest quality and speckless.  
  
Even though he hadn't unsheathed it yet, Svelten was firmly grasping his sword's hilt, and his eyes were flaring with eagerness to strike. Ortenrosse noticed that the knight was staring at him with a look of open enmity and disdain. Feeling a bit insulted by Svelten's hostile and disrespectful attitude, Ortenrosse returned a disdainful look. Their little stand-off didn't escape Altrouge's attention:  
  
“Perhaps. I still haven’t decided whether to punish him or if I should forgive him this once,” she replied to her knight, putting on a serious expression once again.  
  
Ignoring Svelten, Ortenrosse said to Altrouge calmly:  
  
”It is in very poor taste to make jokes like this one. And it is very disrespectful to act in such a way towards a guest.”  
  
”I guess,” she replied absentmindedly. “But... on the other hand...”  
  
Altrouge snapped her fingers, and the white beast lying at her feet raised its head and started growling at the vampire lord. Fixing her gaze with Ortenrosse’s, the black princess continued in a cold voice:  
  
”I’ve been thinking: now that the True Ancestors have been crippled, and the Church is busy fighting the magi, the only enemy I have left is _you_. And you are _here_ , in my castle, at my mercy, Ortenrosse. So why should I cooperate with you when I can easily kill you right here, right now? All I have to do is give the order and I’ll become the undisputed leader of all vampires.”  
  
With another snap of Altrouge’s fingers, the white dog rose to its feet, growling ever louder at the vampire and his men, who reached for the hilts of their swords in alarm. The rest of the vampires in the hall became upset, too, as the atmosphere suddenly became very tense and charged. Murmur rose throughout the hall once again, and it seemed that there wasn’t a single person in the room who wasn’t feeling anxious.   
A notable exception was the black swordsman standing behind the throne, who seemed rather amused both by the antics of his mistress and Lord Ortenrosse, and by the reactions of the rest of the court. He fumbled with a button of his old and dirty black overcoat while waiting to see the resolution of this situation.  
  
However, despite being faced with both the vampire knight Svelten and the murderous beast of Gaia, Ortenrosse remained calm and composed.  
  
“True,” he said, not moving his eyes off the black princess, “you could order your servants to kill me here, and you’d certainly succeed in that. However; what guarantee do you have that my body won’t simply turn into mist once you’ve killed me?”  
  
Hearing this, White Knight Svelten loosened the grip on the hilt of his sword a bit. The subtle movement did not pass unnoticed for the knight standing in the back, and he couldn't help but grin a little.  
  
“If you fail to kill me right here, then you know that you’re in for a long and exhausting war, for I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to ignore an act of assaulting me, even if it’s just a spare body.”  
  
“Or maybe you’re just bluffing so that I won’t kill you,” Altrouge said, grinning.  
  
“Maybe. But will you take the risk of finding out the truth?” Ortenrosse replied calmly.  
  
The two Ancestors stared at each other in silence again, and the air was almost vibrating with tension, until Altrouge finally gave in; she sighed heavily and said:  
  
”Damn you and your wits, Ortenrosse. You win this time, but don’t let it go to your head – I intend to beat you in our next game.”  
  
Then, she smacked her lips to which the white dog stopped growling, and returned to quietly lying back on the floor and staring at Ortenrosse in mistrust. The rest of the vampires also relaxed as the tension was defused, except for Svelten, who still looked alarmed, still gripping the hilt of his sword. Ortenrosse noticed this with the corner of his eye and, with a faint smirk, said to Altrouge:  
  
”I would appreciate it if you could bring your other dog to heel, as well.”  
  
“Oh, that one; I’m afraid I’ve been too lax while training him. He can be quite unruly from time to time.”  
  
”I see,” Ortenrosse said and turned to Svelten. “Will you do us a favour, man, and let go of your sword? I find the fact that you’re threatening your master’s guest against her wishes to be most rude and disrespectful,” he said in a slightly condescending voice.   
  
It was more than enough to annoy Svelten:  
  
”I take orders from the Princess, not you. _My lord_.” he replied, making sure to pronounce the last two words as sarcastically as possible.  
  
“Enough, Svelten,” Altrouge said, sounding tired. “We won’t be killing lord Ortenrosse tonight, so let it go.”  
  
He begrudgingly obeyed, taking his right hand off his sword and taking a step back.  
  
Satisfied, Ortenrosse turned to the vampire princess again:  
  
”So, have we reached an understanding, my lady?”  
  
”I’ll think about it,” she said with a small grin. “Such a big decision shouldn’t be made lightly, don’t you think?”  
  
”Of course,” he replied with a nod. “I shall be waiting for your decision eagerly.”  
  
”I’m sure you will. Now; you must be tired from the road. Please, come, my lord, and have a rest,” she said, rising to her feet ( to which all the vampire nobles rose from their seats, as well ) and gesturing with her right hand towards the back entrance of the hall.  
  
“Thank you for your hospitality, my lady. We could all use a good rest,” Ortenrosse replied.  
  
“I shall have my servants prepare rooms for you and your men.”   
  
“I am in your debt, my lady.”  
  
”Well, you can repay your debt by joining me in my chamber for a drink. I am in need of some company before I go to rest,” she said, climbing down from her throne and approaching Ortenrosse. “Will you accept my invitation?”  
  
“How could I refuse you, my lady?” Ortenrosse replied with a small bow. “I shall be honoured to make you company.”  
  
”Great! Then come with me,” she replied with child-like enthusiasm and hurriedly left the great hall with Ortenrosse.   
  
When they were passing by the swordsman in black, Ortenrosse gave the man in black a small bow, which the swordsman returned. Svelten noticed this, and gritted his teeth.  
  
The white dog quickly sprang to its feet and ran after its mistress, and several maids and servants of the black princess followed suit.   
  
  
The vampire princess and her companion walked down the candle-lit corridors arm in arm, and after a short walk they reached Altrouge’s chambers. They entered the drawing room and sat down in a pair of armchairs facing each other over a small square table.   
  
“Maria, go and fetch a drink for me and lord Ortenrosse, and quickly,” Altrouge commanded to one of her servant girls.  
  
“Yes, my lady,” the vampire replied with a curtsy and hurriedly left the chamber.  
  
“I apologize for the mess,” Altrouge said, waving her hand in no particular direction. “I forgot to order my maids to clean it up while were in the great hall.”  
  
”It’s quite alright,” Ortenrosse replied, sparing a quick glance at the room.  
  
The wall opposite him was covered in a large tapestry depicting a deer hunt, with the company of hunters led by a young girl with golden hair. Against the wall to his right were several small cabinets and a large sofa. A number of bottles and pieces of silverware were scattered on the cupboards, and several drawers had been left hanging open from the cabinets. One of the cushions was lying on the floor at the foot of the sofa. On the wall to the left were two tall and narrow windows, and since the dawn was approaching fast, the shutters had been closed shut and thick black curtains drawn over the windows to stop all sunlight from coming into the room. Behind Ortenrosse was a large, and currently empty, fireplace.   
The chamber was illuminated by dozens of small candles, scattered throughout the room on numerous candlesticks and a large chandelier.  
  
After taking a look at the room ( which, in his opinion, wasn’t really in a state of ‘mess’, since there wasn’t really much furniture to make it messy in the first place ), he turned his attention to the small table in front of him.   
Between the two empty goblets, one on the each end of a table, was a shatranj gameboard, and judging by the positions of the figures on it, it seemed as if someone slammed their fist on the board in a fit of anger, making a number of figures fall on their sides, and turning the board into a disorganized mess.   
  
Ortenrosse raised an eyebrow after seeing this, and it did not escape Altrouge’s attention:  
  
”What is it, Ortenrosse?”  
  
”I was just wondering if you were playing shatranj before our meeting.”  
  
“Well, yes – I was playing with Strout.”  
  
”I take it that it did not end favourably for you,” Ortenrosse teased with a small grin.  
  
“That cheeky bastard!” Altrouge exclaimed, pouting. “He always beats me, each and every time. I try so hard every time, but he always wins and he always has that annoying, composed expression and never talks much. He never gloats, never teases... It makes me mad, Ortenrosse.”  
  
“Yes, Strout was always the quiet and calm type,” the vampire lord replied, suppressing a chuckle. “And he was always good at the game.”  
  
“Well, whatever! If he beats me the next time we play, I’m going to have Fenrir bite one of his arms off!” she said, glancing at the white dog lying next to her chair.  
  
Ortenrosse remained silent for a few seconds before finally replying:  
  
” _Fenrir_? You’ve given a name to the Beast of Gaia?”  
  
”Sure,” Altrouge replied, looking somewhat confused. “I can’t call him ‘Primate Murder’, now, can I? Such names are for the Church’s hunting dogs to use.”  
  
“Still... And how did you choose the name?”  
  
”Well...” the girl started, putting her right forefinger on her chin, and her eyes wandering off towards the ceiling, “first I thought about naming him ‘Kerberos’, but that was _so_ cliche and unimaginative. And besides, I’m not all that fond of the Greeks; they’re _your_ thing, not mine.”  
  
“Indeed. And ‘Kerberos’ wouldn’t quite suit it anyways – it only has one head.”  
  
”Don’t nitpick, Ortenrosse,” Altrouge retorted. “Well, this name eventually just sprang to my mind and I quite liked it. And Fenrir likes it too, don’t you boy?” she cooed to the beast while patting it on the head, which seemed to be quite pleasant for the dog.  
  
“I always wondered; just _how_ did you manage to tame this beast?”   
  
“Well...” Altrouge replied with a mischievous smile, “I’m good with animals. And this poor pup needs love just like every other being.”  
  
”I think calling it a ‘pup’ is a bit too much,” Ortenrosse said with a chuckle.  
  
”No; he really is like a puppy. And I have to tell you, he’s quite a spoiled little bugger, too,” she giggled, rubbing the dog’s head and neck.  
  
Just then the servant girl, Maria, returned carrying a silver tray with two crystal goblets filled with a thick, crimson red liquid. She placed the goblets on the small table in front of the two vampire Ancestors and collected the pair of empty ones which were left behind by Altrouge and Strout during their game of shatranj. She bowed and left the two alone in the chamber.  
  
“Well, to your health, my Lord Ortenrosse!” Altrouge made a toast, raising her glass.  
  
“And to _your_ health as well, my lady,” Ortenrosse replied, raising his glass, too, and then they both took a sip from their goblets.  
  
“Shall we play?” Ortenrosse said after putting down his cup, gesturing towards the gameboard in front of him.  
  
“Sure. Why not?” Altrouge accepted.  
  
After they had rearranged the pieces, with the black camp on Altrouge’s side and the white on Ortenrosse’s, the vampire lord said:  
  
”Choose your colours, my lady.”  
  
”There’s no need to choose.” she replied, leaning back in her armchair.  
  
Ortenrosse took it as a permission to start playing, moving a pawn on his right flank one square forward.  
  
  
Within a few minutes, the game was in full swing; Ortenrosse was slowly advancing forward, always careful to cover all his figures, while Altrouge tended to passionately strike forward with a single figure, and then masterfully maneuvered her way out of the danger zone.   
The two were having a pleasant and friendly conversation whilst playing, when suddenly Altrouge asked:  
  
“Tell me Ortenrosse; why exactly have you made that proposition to me? About hunting down the True Ancestors?”  
  
Ortenrosse moved a rook which was under attack from one of Altrouge’s knights, leaned back in his chair and replied:  
  
”I told you – it is to eliminate the threat once and for all.”  
  
”Come on, now, no need to play politics here with me,” she said playfully. “You and I both know that the remaining True Ancestors are no threat to us; their power has been broken for good, and there’s no need to waste time and resources on the few weak ones who’ve escaped my little sister’s rage. So, tell me what’s the _true_ reason behind it: why do you want to eliminate them so badly?”  
  
She moved one of her rooks forward, taking a pawn on Ortenrosse’s left flank.   
  
The vampire lord stared at the board in silence for a few seconds before replying:  
”True reason? Only a simple and reckless man would make such a big decision due to one, single reason.”  
  
”Fine, then; what are the _other_ reasons?”   
  
“I suppose you could say that I just don’t like them, though my dislike stems out of a multitude of reasons,” Ortenrosse replied after another short pause. “They’ve been a thorn in my side for quite a long time now, and I couldn’t do anything about them. But now we have an opportunity to eradicate them completely, and like I said, that is an opportunity I’m not planning to miss.”  
  
“Oh...? Lord Ortenrosse fighting someone over a grudge? That’s certainly new. It’s nice to see you taking action just for the sake of the thrill of a hunt, rather than gaining more power and land as you usually do.”  
  
”Do not misunderstand me,” Ortenrosse interrupted her, moving a knight to put one of Altrouge’s elephants under attack. “It is not for the sake of the ‘thrill of a hunt’. I want to eradicate them both out of principle, and out of practical reasons.”  
  
“Out of principle? And what principle does the great lord Ortenrosse serve?” Altrouge teased him, cackling like a little girl.  
  
“I serve several principles; one of them being that I don’t like that there are beings who are higher on the food chain than me. The True Ancestors have always looked down on us, always acting conceited and hiding in their precious castle. Time has come for us to punish them for never seeing us as their equals.”  
  
”That sounds a bit cowardly of you, though; if their attitude bothered you so much, why are you only choosing to act on it _now_ , when they have been crippled and their castle destroyed?”  
  
“Because I am not stupid. Starting a war with the True Ancestors would have been a folly. Maybe, with the combined forces of the twenty-seven, we would have stood a chance, at least before the birth of their White Princess, but achieving such cooperation is impossible. As I said, I don’t like when there are beings higher on the food chain than me, _but,_ I’m not foolish enough to fight them head-on if I know that I’m going to lose.”  
  
”Well, that sounds fair, I guess. And your other principles?”  
  
Ortenrosse didn’t reply, and instead took another sip from his goblet. Placing the glass back on the table, he wiped a few red drops off of his lips with a white handkerchief which he kept in his breast pocket, and then said:  
  
”Your move, my lady.”  
  
  
The game dragged on for almost an hour, and the servant girl refilled their cups two more times, before Altrouge finally got to exclaim:  
  
”Check!”  
  
Ortenrosse gave a weak smile and rose to his feet.  
  
“Well, then, let us continue this game some other time, my lady.”  
  
”Ha?! No, that’s not fair! You can’t walk away just when I’ve started winning. Get back here, Ortenrosse.”  
  
”I did not mean to you insult you by this, my lady, but the sun is already up and I’m quite tired. With your permission I will retire to my chambers to get some rest. I promise to continue this game at first opportunity.”  
  
“Hmph. Fine, then. Go and rest, my lord. I wouldn’t want you to make any excuses about how I only won because you were tired and unfocused, so go and get some sleep. I intend to crush you, so prepare yourself,” Altrouge replied, crossing her arms and pouting.  
  
”If you say so, my lady,” Ortenrosse said with a smile, bowed a little and left the drawing room.  
  
Altrouge kept staring at the gameboard for a few more seconds and then got out of her chair as well.  
  
“Come, Fenrir.” she said to her monstrous white dog and left for her bedroom. “We’ll beat him for sure, both in _this_ game and the other one.”  
  
  
Ortenrosse and his men stayed and rested at the castle during the day, but as soon as the sun had set behind the mountains they started making preparations for their departure.  
  
“I expected you to stay a little longer." Altrouge, who came to the courtyard with a small retinue, said to the vampire lord who had just mounted his black steed.  
  
“I would, but time is of the essence; every day I spend here gives _you_ a little more advantage over me. There’s a hunt awaiting, and I don’t intend to lose to you, my lady.”  
  
”Ha. No matter your intentions, Ortenrosse, you better prepare yourself for being humiliated.” she teased, chuckling.   
  
“You seem quite confident in yourself, my lady. Don’t let your overconfidence be the cause of your defeat.”  
  
”It’s not me who should worry about being defeated,” she said, shooting him a playful smile and patting her white dog on the head.  
  
“In any case, I am glad that you have accepted my proposal,” Ortenrosse said, bowing a little in the saddle.  
  
“Of course! How could I miss an opportunity to compete with you, my lord? You know I can’t resist a challenge.”  
  
“Indeed. Well then, stay well, my lady. We shall see each other in a year. Happy hunting!” Ortenrosse replied.   
  
Then, with a shout and a quick jerk of his reigns, he forced his horse into gallop down the dark tunnel, and his men followed him. Once the last of Ortenrosse’s knights had disappeared into the darkness of the passage, Altrouge went back into her castle. She quickly climbed a spiral staircase which led to the top floor of one of the towers of the castle citadel, and her loyal beast followed her.  
  
Standing on a balcony looking south, she gazed at the band of riders who were hurriedly making their way across the green plain. The night was dark and the crescent moon was still low, and the crimson eyes of the vampire princess sparkled in the darkness like a pair of embers.   
She kept standing there motionlessly, staring at the tiny figures of the riders far below, and her long golden hair was waving in the warm southern wind.  
  
Suddenly, her tight lips curled into a mischievous smile, exposing her two long, silvery vampire fangs. She raised her eyes from the plain and towards the young moon which had just risen over the southern mountains, and whispered into the wind:  
  
”Happy hunting.”   
  
  


  
*******   


**Author's Note:**

> * - about the Church and the Clock Tower being "at each other's throats": I have developed a headcanon in which the Church and MA fought an all-out war during the 12th and 13th centuries, and eventually the DAA got involved in it, too ( our friend Roa gathering a huge force of vampires and bothering other DAAs and the Church is canon anyways ). The war brought the involved factions to a brink of destruction, and once the Church and the MA realized that an open war between them would result in mutual annihilation, they agreed to a non-aggression treaty that held out to the present day.  
> I'll write a fic or two about the war.
> 
> ** - "shatranj" is a game that was a direct predecessor to modern chess. It is played on an identical board, and most of the pieces are the same as in chess. Notable differences are that the Queen ( called "fers", or "counsellor" in shatranj ) is a rather impotent figure, the Bishop is called "Elephant" and moves a bit differently, there is not Castling etc.
> 
> *** - 'Fenrir' was a demonic wolf from the Norse mythology, a spawn of Loki who later killed Odin. Someone on Beast's Lair had posted an idea that the mythological Fenrir is actually Primate Murder in Nasuverse and I quite liked the idea. When I got the idea for this fic, I thought that it would be unlikely for Altrouge to refer to her dog as 'Primate Murder', and I needed a proper name. So, well, I had Altrouge name it 'Fenrir'.
> 
>  
> 
> \- So, about this fic; I suddenly got this idea two days ago, and since it refused to leave my head, I decided to sit down and start writing it. It will be a short story, only 3 chapters ( ~20,000 words ) long. I always liked Nasuverse vampires, and always wanted Nasu to give us more info on the DAAs, the TAs, their wars and history and stuff. And since Nasu is too busy playing Dark Souls, I thought: "why not write something myself?"  
> Well, here's the first part of the story. Hope you like it.


End file.
